A Lucky Flat

We'd heard of the Turks' hospitality, but nothing prepared us for the reality. At first I stopped at gas stations to use the toilet. In America this might be a problem because we weren't actually buying gas. Not in Turkey. Each time we'd have a curious station owner come out to investigate us and our bikes, then invite us in for a cup of tea (a loose-leaf tea with sugar cubes that's served in flower-shaped glass cups). We'd converse in a mixture of pantomime and Esperanto and invariably meet the whole family. The only problem is that after a 20-minute chat, we'd ride for half an hour and have to stop again. Then the cycle would repeat. Eventually, we had to stop visiting gas stations at all--otherwise we'd never get anywhere!

In the rural areas we're quite the curiosity, which is nice but also exhausting. But people have been extremely friendly and helpful. On Thursday we needed to refill our water bottles in the mountains and it turned into a two-hour breakfast at the local Jandarme station discussing politics and tourism with the Commander and students doing their military service. But yesterday was the best.

Until yesterday we'd escaped flat tires, but then David got a flat in the morning, and then another in mid-afternoon. The second was annoying, but we were just a few steps away from a gas station and lunch stop, and were ready for a rest.

Little did we know how lucky we were. As David began to repair the flat this guy sidled over and watched, then picked up the empty tube and started playing with it. We weren't sure what he was doing (many things become mysterious when you don't speak the language) and a bıt skeptıcal but didn't want to be rude. Then he motioned that he had air to pump up the tire. Next he took the tire, and I followed him over to a tank of water, where he dunked it in water and found the puncture. Finally he went into a little hut in the parking lot and suddenly I understood. It turned out he was a professinal tire repairman who'd had a shop at this gas station for ten years. He took the tire and patched it in a few seconds, then moved on to our other punctured tubes, and gave us pointers on the quickest way to change a tire.

In typical Turkish fashion he refused payment but instead invited us to sit for a cup of tea. Mmm... morning till night, the tea and Nescafe flows freely here. Even David has switched from murky Seattle coffee to the sugary pleasures of Turkish tea.